I Miss Mummy Read online

  A Milestone Missed

  ‘I’m not going,’ Alice said again on Thursday morning when I told her she would be seeing her father that afternoon. It was 11.30 a.m. and Kitty had phoned five minutes before, having just come out of court. She said the judge had reinstated contact and I should take Alice to the family centre to see her father at 1.30 p.m. Kitty apologized and I could tell she felt pretty deflated by the decision.

  ‘I’m afraid we have to go,’ I said gently to Alice. ‘You remember I explained how a man called a judge decided what was best for you? Well, he has decided it is best for you to see your father. I have to take you – otherwise I will get into trouble.’

  Alice looked at me, her usual wide-eyed innocent expression now tight and emotionless. ‘All right, then, I’ll go, because I don’t want you getting into trouble.’

  ‘Good girl. And we must remember to take the candy we brought back from holiday to give to your father and Sharon.’

  Alice shrugged and returned to her crayoning.

  Sometimes foster carers have to put their own feelings and opinions to one side, and just get on with what they have been asked to do, and this was one such time. I didn’t believe it was in Alice’s best interest to force her into seeing her father, but then I didn’t have all the information that had been available to the judge and on which he had based his decision. On Thursday at 1.00 p.m. Lucy and Paula came with me in the car to take Alice to the family centre while Adrian stayed at home. When we’d been to the centre the day before for Alice’s contact with her grandparents, she’d been overjoyed and had rushed up the path to the centre, eager to give her nana and grandpa the small gift from our holiday. But now as I once more walked up the path Alice kept close by me, holding my hand, with the box of candy for Chris and Sharon tucked unenthusiastically under her other arm. I’d left Lucy and Paula in the car; it wasn’t really appropriate for them to come into the centre, but they liked to accompany Alice in the car. I pressed the security button on the grid mounted on the wall, gave my name and the door clicked open.

  Alice didn’t say anything as we went in and she hadn’t said much in the car either. Chris and Sharon were already in reception and came over, Sharon first, her previous enthusiasm apparently restored, only it was directed at me: ‘Have you heard what that cow has done to us now?’ Sharon cried, referring to Leah. ‘She’s made up a pack of lies and had Chris arrested! If I see her I’ll scratch her eyes out and—’

  ‘Sharon,’ I interrupted, raising my voice over hers. ‘This isn’t the time or place. Not in front of Alice, please.’

  Sharon stopped and bent to Alice, who was expressionless. ‘Hi, precious!’ she cooed. ‘Don’t you worry about Mummy Sharon.’ Then, seeing the candy: ‘Ah! Are those for me! How sweet of you!’

  Alice dutifully handed over the box of candy; Sharon hugged and kissed her but Alice remained stiff and unresponsive. The contact supervisor appeared and, having said goodbye, I watched them walk away. Alice, upright and emotionless, went down the corridor between Sharon and Chris as though being escorted away by two security guards. I returned to the car and as I got in I let out a small sigh.

  ‘Alice says she hates her father,’ Paula said, as I started the engine. ‘So why does she have to see him?’

  ‘Because at her age no one listens to what you want,’ Lucy said. ‘You’re just a kid. When you get to my age they have to listen because they can’t force you.’ Lucy saw her mother no more than twice a year, and never saw her father or the many aunts she had sometimes stayed with. And what Lucy said held some truth: at twelve Lucy’s wishes had been taken into account when contact had been decided, while Alice’s wishes clearly hadn’t.

  When I collected Alice at the end of contact she seemed a bit brighter, possibly relieved.

  ‘Everything all right?’ I asked as we walked down the path, away from the centre and towards the car.

  Alice nodded.

  ‘Did Dad and Sharon like their candy?’ I asked.

  Alice nodded again. ‘Sharon ate most if it. She’s such a pig. But she did play with me. Dad didn’t say anything to me.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s preoccupied,’ I said generously. ‘You know – thinking of other things.’

  ‘That’s what Sharon said. I think it was to do with my mummy, but he wasn’t allowed to say.’ The contact supervisor would have stopped Chris or Sharon talking about Leah – one of the supervisor’s roles is to monitor conversation and tell the adults what isn’t acceptable.

  Contact with Chris and Sharon, having been reestablished, continued twice a week throughout the rest of the summer holidays; Alice continued to see her grandparents once a fortnight. Alice always looked forward to seeing her nana and grandpa, and accepted the contact with her father and Sharon with resignation. The Guardian ad Litem visited in the last week in August and spent an hour with Alice and me, but didn’t really have any more news beyond what I already knew from Kitty and Jill, who kept me regularly updated. I knew that the police were still investigating the case against Chris to decide if there was enough evidence to proceed with a prosecution, and a trial date hadn’t yet been set. I also knew that the care proceedings (to some extent) rested on the outcome of the criminal proceedings – in terms of the advisability of Alice going to live with her father – so no date had been set for the final court hearing in the childcare proceedings, when the judge would decide where Alice would live.

  When Kitty made her next four-weekly visit, two days after the Guardian had visited, she told me that the psychologist, Brenda Taylor, had filed her report. This report had been based on her observations of Alice at contact – both with her grandparents and with Chris and Sharon. Kitty summed up the conclusion to Barbara’s report: Alice has a warm and loving relationship with her grandparents but is very cautious and wary around her father.

  ‘Hardly surprising, as Alice witnessed him beating up her mother last summer,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Kitty said, feeling, I sensed, that while Brenda’s report was necessary for the court it didn’t really say more than was obvious.

  Kitty also said the psychologist had written that Alice often mentioned her mother during contact with her grandparents and still appeared to have a strong bond with her mother despite the lengthy separation, but she hadn’t been able to assess this first hand because there was no contact between Alice and her mother at present.

  Jill paid her monthly visit on the last day of August and I updated her about the psychologist’s report; the rest she knew from Kitty.

  September came, and I bought Alice’s school uniform, new shoes, book bag and PE kit. I took photographs of her, looking very smart on her first day at school.

  The first day at school is a milestone for any child and their parents and while I glowed with pride I was very sorry that Leah couldn’t be there to see Alice’s first day. I half hoped she might appear from behind the tree outside the school, but she didn’t. I would have extra copies of the photographs of Alice in her school uniform printed – for Leah, Alice’s grandparents and of course Chris and Sharon – but I felt this was small recompense for Leah not actually being there to see Alice. Again my heart went out to her for what she was missing of her daughter’s life.

  All the new children starting school went in for mornings only the first week to give them time to adjust; then from the second week they went all day: 8.55 a.m. to 3.15 p.m. And whereas when Alice had been at nursery I had collected her early on the days she had contact, now she was at school the social worker, rightly, felt that Alice shouldn’t miss school, and so contact was rescheduled to start at 4.00 p.m. So two afternoons one week and three afternoons the next I collected Alice from school and took her straight to the family centre; then I returned at 6.00 p.m. to bring her home.

  Alice was so exhausted on the nights she saw Chris and Sharon that she was often too tired to eat her dinner and just wanted to go to bed. I raised this with Kitty, who suggested that contact with her father and Sharon could be
shortened to one hour during termtime (contact with her grandparents had only ever been one hour), which meant Alice would be home at 5.30 instead of 6.30 – as when she saw her grandparents. This seemed a good idea, for Alice’s sake. However, when Kitty asked Chris, whose permission she would need to change the contact, as it had been set under a court order, he first agreed and then changed his mind after speaking to Sharon. Sharon was vehemently opposed to any reduction in contact, even though Kitty explained how exhausting it was for Alice, having just started school. It wasn’t worth the time and cost for Kitty to take such a relatively small matter back to court and ask the judge to amend the contact order. So contact remained as it was, with Alice being too tired to eat her dinner and wanting to go straight to bed on returning from seeing her father and Sharon.

  At the end of September, when Alice had been with me for six months, her next review was due, and I received a standard letter inviting me to attend. My thoughts went to Alice’s first review, when Leah hadn’t felt able to attend and there had been heated exchanges between Mr and Mrs Jones and Chris and Sharon. Although an invitation would have been sent to Leah, I doubted she would attend this review either. So it came as no surprise to me when, two weeks later, I walked into the committee room – the same one we had used for the last review – to find that Leah wasn’t present. What did surprise me, though, was that Chris wasn’t present either.

  Chapter Thirty

  Torn Apart

  Sharon was at the review and her hostility was immediately obvious. Even before we’d introduced ourselves she was glaring at Mr and Mrs Jones. ‘Chris can’t come,’ she said, accusingly. ‘He’s got an emergency meeting with his solicitor. The police are going to prosecute him, and all because of your bloody daughter!’

  ‘So there is justice in the world,’ Mr Jones said.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Mrs Jones said quietly, with obvious relief.

  The fact that the police had enough evidence to go ahead and prosecute Chris was clearly news to Mr and Mrs Jones, as it was to me and apparently everyone else seated around the table. The chairperson, Ray Sturgess (the same chairperson who had sat at Alice’s previous review), was looking to Kitty for explanation, but she was shaking her head, not knowing. ‘There’s probably an email waiting for me,’ Kitty said. ‘I haven’t had a chance to check my inbox yet this morning. I was aware the police were investigating Chris to see if they had a strong enough case to take to court. It seems they have.’

  ‘And the charges?’ Ray asked.

  ‘Lies, made up by their daughter,’ Sharon put in, jabbing a finger across the table toward Mr and Mrs Jones.

  ‘Grievous bodily harm and breaking and entering,’ Kitty clarified.

  ‘He put our daughter in hospital,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘He nearly killed her.’

  Ray, who was also taking minutes, wrote on his notepad, and then looked up. ‘I think we had better introduce ourselves and I’ll open this meeting properly before we go any further. I’m Ray Sturgess, external chairperson.’ We then went round the table introducing ourselves, as is usual at the start of any meeting, even though we’d all met before. Next to Ray was Kitty; then Mr and Mrs Jones, Jill and me; then Sharon, who was sitting directly opposite Alice’s grandparents. Ray said the Guardian had sent her apology for absence as she was in court with another case. Kitty said the school hadn’t been invited, as Alice had only been in reception a few weeks.

  ‘And Mum?’ Ray asked. ‘Is Leah expected?’

  ‘No,’ Mrs Jones said. ‘She’s not up to it. She suffered a setback after Chris attacked her.’

  ‘He didn’t touch her,’ Sharon said. ‘She’s lying.’

  Ray raised his hand for silence, perhaps feeling that this meeting was likely to continue where the last one had left off – in a slanging match. ‘Tell me about the alleged attack,’ Ray said, looking at Mrs Jones. The chairperson’s only contact with the social services is at the child’s review, so he wouldn’t have known what had happened in the interim.

  In a subdued and very sad voice Mrs Jones recounted how, a month previously, Chris had broken into Leah’s flat at 2.00 a.m. and badly assaulted her. ‘He would have killed her if the neighbours hadn’t called the police,’ she said again. ‘Leah is staying with us for now, too scared to go out or return to her own flat.’

  Ray wrote. ‘And these are the charges Chris is seeing a solicitor about now?’ he asked, looking up and round the table.

  ‘I assume so,’ Kitty said.

  ‘Yes,’ Sharon said. ‘And they’re a pack of lies.’

  ‘That will be for the court to decide,’ Ray said, surprisingly sternly, and then, looking at Kitty: ‘Do these criminal proceedings against Chris change the care plan for Alice? At the last review the plan was for Alice to live with her father and Sharon; has that changed?’

  ‘Not at present,’ Kitty said. I heard Mr Jones’s sharp intake of breath. ‘The childcare proceedings are on hold and we are waiting for the outcome of the criminal proceedings,’ Kitty said. Jill made a note.

  ‘I assume Alice is still living with you, Cathy?’ Ray said, looking at me. I nodded. ‘Perhaps you could give us an update now, and tell us how Alice has been getting on since her last review.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I smiled as I said that Alice had been doing very well, considering all that was going on, and that she was a delight to look after. I said she’d enjoyed our summer holiday and had now settled into school, where she had made many friends. I mentioned she was tired after contact, and that she still had a strong bond with her mother and became sad when she spoke of her, as she missed her greatly.

  ‘And the bond with her father and Sharon?’ Ray asked. ‘Has the high level of contact encouraged that bond?’

  I paused. ‘Not obviously,’ I said carefully, without looking at Sharon. ‘It appears to have remained the same as it was at the last review. Alice isn’t upset before she goes to contact with her father and Sharon, but she never asks after her father or talks about him as she does her mother.’ I felt Sharon’s eyes on me but I had to say it as it was.

  Ray nodded, and then said to Kitty: ‘Will you reduce Alice’s contact with her father and Sharon now there is a chance she might not be going to live with them?’

  ‘No,’ Sharon said. Ray ignored her.

  ‘Not at present,’ Kitty confirmed. ‘My manager has advised me we should wait until the outcome of the criminal proceedings. Otherwise we could be seen to be prejudging the case.’

  ‘And if Chris is found guilty?’ Ray asked, pausing and looking up from writing. ‘Where will Alice live then?’

  Kitty paused, and toyed with the pen on the table in front of her before answering. ‘We are carrying out a parenting assessment of Mr and Mrs Jones, which will shortly be complete. If it is decided that Alice cannot live with her father and Sharon, and that Mr and Mrs Jones’s ages prohibit them from being the best choice for long-term care for Alice, then Alice will be placed for adoption.’

  ‘And what is the most likely outcome?’ Ray asked.

  ‘Adoption,’ Kitty said.

  Although at the last review Mr and Mrs Jones had been made aware that adoption was a possibility, it had been remote – one of a number of possible outcomes for Alice, not the ‘most likely’. Now the chances of Alice being adopted had stepped that much closer and there was absolute silence round the table. I didn’t dare look up for fear of meeting Mr and Mrs Jones’s gaze. My heart went out to them. I knew how uncomfortable Kitty must be feeling, having had to say this, and I felt uncomfortable too. I also felt guilty for being part of an ‘establishment’ that could be responsible for removing Alice from her grandparents for good.

  After a few moments Mrs Jones spoke, her voice slight and shaky. ‘Why should Alice be adopted? She already has us and a mummy.’

  ‘But not a mummy who can look after her,’ Ray said gently.

  ‘We can look after her,’ Mr Jones said, almost pleading. ‘Please don’t send our little Alice to a st
ranger. We’re not too old to look after her, and when we are Leah will be well enough to look after Alice again. I’m sure of it.’

  I swallowed hard as Ray answered, giving as much reassurance as he was able: ‘Nothing has been decided yet, Mr Jones,’ he said, ‘and if your assessment is positive adoption might not be necessary.’ Then, looking at Kitty: ‘Is the department doing parallel planning?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kitty said. ‘A family-finding meeting has been set up for two weeks’ time to set the process in motion.’

  I glanced sideways at Jill, aware of the significance of this, while Ray explained it to Mr and Mrs Jones, undoing the slight hope he had previously given them that Alice might not be adopted. ‘Parallel planning allows the social services to explore more than one avenue at the same time,’ Ray said. ‘While you are being assessed the social services will start looking for a suitable adoptive family for Alice. It can take many months to find such a family, but it means that by the time of the final court hearing, if the judge decides adoption is the best option for Alice, then a family is already waiting for her. Alice shouldn’t be kept in foster care any longer than is necessary.’

  ‘But if Alice is adopted will we lose her forever?’ Mrs Jones said, her voice quavering with emotion. Mr Jones stared blankly ahead, clearly struggling to come to terms with what he was hearing.

  ‘Will Alice’s grandparents be able to keep in contact with Alice if she is adopted?’ Ray asked Kitty.

  Kitty very slightly shook her head and concentrated on Ray as she spoke. ‘It is felt that letterbox contact only is appropriate in cases of adoption. This means that Mr and Mrs Jones will be able to write and send cards to Alice, but there will be no face-to-face contact.’

  Ray gave a small nod and I thought raised his eyebrows – in surprise or shock? – before he minuted what Kitty had said. Mr Jones sat very still while Mrs Jones took a tissue from her pocket and pressed it to her eyes. We were all silent again, Kitty, Jill and myself concentrating on the table in front of us. Again I thought of my own parents and I wondered how they would have coped hearing that the only contact they could have with their grandchildren was ‘through a letterbox’.